The Selfish Heir: The Tale of Tom Riddle the Third
by M-Shall P
Summary: It is a fallacy- incidentally a very common one- to suppose that genetically inherited traits are by definition fixed and unmodifiable. My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. I am not my father. I am not Voldemort. This is my story.
1. Chapter 1

It is a fallacy- incidentally a very common one- to suppose that genetically inherited traits are by definition fixed and unmodifiable. My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. I am not my father. I am not Voldemort. This is my story.

I was born on October 31st, 1981. I do not know who my mother was. I barely know who my father was. All I know is that on the day I was born, Lord Voldemort disappeared from the face of the earth.

I was born in darkness. I'm not dramatically exaggerating the circumstances of my coming, my mother gave birth to me in a cell no larger than an average closet. Why was she in a cell you ask? I will tell you, but you won't like it.

It all started when the Dark Lord first heard of the prophecy. At the risk of possible demise, he immediately began preparation for the possible destruction of his mortal body. Somehow, he had found a way to expand his own life beyond his physical form. That is where I come in.

You see, Voldemort refused to admit it openly, but he knew that a stray spell could easily take him out. Entrusting the secret to a select few, he set upon… 'breeding' a new and perfect body to take as host. And for a few years, he collected witches of extraordinary power and began… experimenting with them. As stubborn as the Dark Lord was, he would not accept anything less than the best for himself, choosing to create children through magic. Imbuing the captured witches with dark and evil magic, dozens of failed children were made, and were rid of just as quickly.

It had to be _perfect_. The right height, the ideal build. It needed to be both charming yet terrifying. It needed to inspire devotion and hatred. He sought to be a god, and desired to look the part. At that point, his creation seemed more and more like it would be his eventual host, not simply a spare.

And then, he had a different objective in mind. Elimination of threats entirely. Still frustrated by the fruitless endeavors of creation, he sought to quickly take care of the potential threat so that he could focus only on the task at hand.

October 31st, 1981. I was born. Doctor Wulfer Frankinstane, a half-blood wizard who was kidnapped specifically for the purpose of this project, deemed me to be the perfect product. Finally, a form worthy of the Dark Lord himself! Immediately, he attempted contact with the Dark Lord. 3 Death Eaters were sent searching for him, while another 4 were left to guard the doctor and me.

The Dark Lord never came.

It's been a decade since that fateful night. My mother passed away, the strain from all the evil magic imbued in her was too much. I never got to know who she was, or even her name. But by the instruction of the Dark Lord, I was to be named Tom. Tom Riddle. It is a curse that I was to bear. The legacy I never wanted.

What will happen to me now? I have not the faintest idea. But this morning, I received an owl, carrying with it my acceptance letter for Hogwarts.

My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. I am not my father. I am not Voldemort. This is my story.

* * *

 **A/N: I have received permission to continue this story from the original author. I do not own Harry Potter.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Tuesday July 30th, 1991**

"Malfoy. Report.", he said, twirling the yew and phoenix wand in his hands. Peter Pettigrew had been sent to Godric's Hollow to retrieve it, immediately after receiving news of the Dark Lord's fate.

"Your insolence astounds me, Riddle."

"You will address me as my lord. You forget your place."

"You are not the Dark Lord. I'll not be belittled by his pet."

Tom managed a smile. As unnerving as he could manage. Lucius would have to be taught a lesson. He knew that his very survival depended on the obedience of the Death Eaters.

Lucius needed to learn. He needed to pay.

While he was maintaining his front, Tom knew the fragility of the loyalty he commanded. While Lord Voldemort could strike fear into his followers, Lord Voldemort was dead. Tom had tried many times to escape the confines of Riddle Manor, but each time he was thwarted by his own caution and the ever watching eyes. He could sense them. He could branch out his mind far enough to know when he was being monitored. A single step out of place, and he would be apprehended and killed. He knew that much.

And Tom was scared.

A quick nod to his lieutenant, Regulus Black, and a half dozen Death Eaters had their wands pointed at the Malfoy patriarch.

Malfoy glared at them. "Do you fools not realize how this impostor is playing us?"

"Careful now. This is the son of our Master. You'd be wise to think before speaking.", Regulus said, drawing out his own wand and settling it on Malfoy's cheek.

"HAH! Son? I have a son, and he is nothing like this... this... FREAK!" Malfoy smacked away the wand digging into his face, and drew his own. "You are nothing but a lab rat that no longer has a purpose in our cause. I refuse to bow down to such an insufferable- GAHHH!" Before he could finish his sentence, thick leather cords had wrapped themselves around his arms and brought them to his sides.

"Fascinating proclamations. I'll bear them in mind for your punishment.", Tom said.

Tom then snapped his finger. A house elf, Dobby, appeared in front of him, holding a cherry red poker. Tom picked it up, carefully examining the edge.

"I'm a lab rat, you say? I cannot tell you how much it saddens me to hear that. I always thought you were... more obedient. I'm very disappointed in you, Lucius." Tom said, smiling.

Lucius looked unnerved. He hadn't expected the boy to take action. "Wait... WAIT! That's not what I meant-!"

"I believe you've let your mouth run enough. Quite the pity."

"PLEASE! I'm sorry, my lord... I beg your forgiveness!"

"Forgiveness? Since when has the Dark Lord forgave anything? You've gotten soft, Malfoy. This will serve as a lesson for the future." Tom hissed. He then plunged the iron rod into Lucius's shoulder, twisting it and thrusting it further in.

The sound that Lucius made was animalistic. No, it was exhilarating. Tom smirked, relishing the torture. Relishing the sweet relief from the facade.

'You could get used to this. You could make them FEAR you...' Tom thought to himself.

As soon as he realized what he was thinking, he immediately withdrew, horrified of his thoughts. Of the man that was seeping through.

'A monster. The Son of Voldemort.'

Tom quickly removed the poker, grimacing at the sorry state Lucius was in. The wound, cauterized before any blood could be spilt, was a sickly shade of black. Lucius was whimpering, muttering incoherent words while rocking back and forth.

Tom struggled to think of something to say, before clearing his throat. "Report, Malfoy. Dammit report."

Stuttering and weeping, Lucius then went on to tell the young lord on what was going on in the world.

With the rest of the Death Eaters sent away, Tom eased himself into a chair. Only Regulus was left, handing Tom a chalice filled with Calming Draught.

His hands shaking uncontrollably, Tom hurriedly gulped down the draught before shuddering. "Regulus, I-"

"I told you. Call me Dad."

"Okay... Dad."

Of course, they had no blood to connect them. Regulus had acted as Tom's surrogate father since... well since it was his wife that ultimately bore the boy Tom.

 **Flashback sequence**

 _Regulus burst into their small room in the Black Manor, in his hands a small suitcase hastily stuffed with a change of clothes and spare funds._

 _"You need to come with me Gamara. We need to get out of here before the Dark Lord-" The witch, Gamara, stopped her husband from speaking further._

 _"I cannot. You'll be killed, since you bear the Dark Mark."_

 _"He'll USE you! To satisfy his hypocrisy he'll use you like a common broodmare!" Regulus screamed._

 _"Then it'll be a willing sacrifice I make.", Gamara shakily replied._

 _"He'll defile you!"_

 _"To my knowledge, it's just a magic ritual." Gamara grasped her husband's hand. "I'll be fine. I need to do this, if we're ever going to lead a normal life. As a family."_

 _"I- I don't know, Gamara." Regulus fell to his knees, regretting the foolhardy decision to ever join the Dark Lord in his mad conquest._

 _"Shhhhh... Trust me. It'll all be ok" Gamara embraced her husband, stroking his hair and cooing into his head._

 _That night, it rained._

 _And Gamara, wife of Regulus Arcturus Black, passed away before her son's 5th birthday, leaving him behind in the care of her grieving husband and the remaining Death Eaters._

* * *

"All students must be equipped with...one standard size two pewter cauldron and may bring if they desire either an owl, a cat or a toad. Well, that's boring.", Tom sighed.

The interrogation of the Malfoy had taken a lot out of him. He wasn't sure of what to feel. On one hand, he was glad to finally put the man in place. Lucius Malfoy was one of the main threats to his control over the remaining Death Eaters. On the other hand, he was disgusted with having felt... pleasure from the act of torture.

Turning the corner, Tom arrived in front of the wand shop Ollivanders. Lord Voldemort's wand had served as a means of intimidation, but Tom could feel the bond was too awkward for him to use. Sucking in a breath, he opened the door and stepped inside.

"I wondered when I'd be seeing you, Mr. Riddle". An elderly man emerged from behind one of the shelves.

"It seems only yesterday that your father was here buying his first wand." It was then, that Tom felt the strange prickling at his mental shields. Some magic was taking measures his mind, gauging his magical core, and testing extents of his magic.

Needless to say, this intrusion was not welcome at all. Tom reflexively struck back at the mental probes, managing to attack the intruder in return. Ollivander faltered, his smile morphing into an expression of pain before quickly recovering.

"Very interesting, Mr. Riddle... Very interesting you are."

"I had no idea you were a Legilimens, sir. Your sudden intrusion was quite the breach of privacy."

"I apologize. It was all in the name of professionalism.", Ollivander apologized. Straightening his robes, he guided Tom to the back of the store. "These are all of my greatest creations. They are my works of art, my children, you can say. I'm sure you can understand me when I say that I want to make sure that my children go to the right homes."

"That is no excuse for your actions. You should have sought permission."

Ollivander bowed his head. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Riddle. I can sense the wand that you have in your holster is of my creation. May I see it?"

Tom flinched. The said wand was the yew and phoenix feather wand of his father. He had hoped not to let anyone know of his heritage if he could help it. Slowly, he unclasped the holder, and drew the wand.

Ollivander stared at the wand for quite some time before gently picking it up. He examined every inch of the wood, drinking in the details while also taking a good look at the wizard in front of him.

"I remember the Tom Riddle I sold this to. He was a clever boy, asked me many questions before this wand chose him. Did you know that he came to me for an apprenticeship after graduating Hogwarts?" Tom's blank expression told him of his ignorance of the fact. "I refused him, of course- can't go around accepting unqualified graduates. But perhaps if I'd taken him in... then the past would have been quite different." Ollivander returned the wand, and Tom carefully replaced it.

"Let's get to finding you a proper wand, Mr. Riddle."

It was when Ollivander's back was turned, did Tom let loose the breath he had been holding. If he'd been a second later on those Occlumency shields, then Ollivander would have been privy to a lot of sensitive- and incriminating information.

After all, Tom didn't want to have to kill the old wandmaker.

* * *

It was around dinnertime when Tom was done with his Hogwarts shopping. Somehow, spending a small fortune of Lucius Malfoy's money helped him soothe his nerves. He now had three full sets of custom tailored Hogwarts robes, designed for the perfect fit sent to Riddle Manor. Half a dozen pewter cauldrons, and a solid gold one just for the snake engraved on its legs. He had purchased either an excessive amount of the things on the school list, or an over expensive alternative.

"Is milord Riddle ready to goes home?", the House Elf, Dobby, asked.

"Perhaps later. Anything you want to eat?"

"Milord should eat good food. Dobby will cook for you at home."

"I don't want to go back yet. The fresh air is good for me." It was only a half-truth. Tom could sense the spies sent after him. He could catch glimpses of their minds, but didn't dare try to dig any deeper. Any practitioner of Occlumency would easily find out if they were being mentally ravaged.

He knew that any attempt to escape the Death Eaters was futile. So he aimed to at least prolong his return.

Tom drew his new wand. The sleek edge of the wand gleamed of proficiency and polish. At 11 inches, acacia from a prestigious American reserve, and a thestral tail string, it was one of the rarer wands in the entire shop.

Curiosity overtaking him, Tom put away his new wand and drew his father's.

The yew and phoenix wand was starting to feel even more uncomfortable in his hands. Truly, Ollivander was right, it was the wand that chose the wizard.

Footsteps alerted Tom of another one following him, much more obvious than the others. Casually, he pretended to stumble, and caught a glimpse of the wizard that was trying to match him step for step. He had a mop of red hair tied back in a ponytail and several scars lining an otherwise youthful face.

Forcing himself not to panic. And not to give away any indication that he knew he was being tailed, Tom evaluated his options. He could try to make it to one of the safe-houses not far from there. The only problem was, the possibility of revealing the identities of his supporters. He knew that if one of them were caught, it could pose a serious threat to the safety of the others.

'But would that be so bad?', Tom thought. 'After all. If the Death Eaters are captured, that means I can finally escape them..."

Contemplating his options, he admitted the irrationality of that plan. There were dozens of Death Eaters, and the only way for him to truly be rid of them was if every single one of them were to be captured or killed. But this pursuer, if he was tailing him for the Ministry, then people like Malfoy would simply bribe their way free.

Another turn. Tom stepped into an alleyway. The situation could very well become an opportunity for his escape. He didn't really think he belonged in the midst of the Death Eater ranks. Their beliefs of blood superiority; their dependence on them, were not his own.

There needed to be a confrontation. But it would be on his terms.

He broke apart one of the spell tablets he had in his coat pocket. Inhaling the warm feeling of empowerment, he aimed his hand towards the redhead, and released.

The man didn't expect the attack, from a young wizard yet to step foot in Hogwarts. The Body Bind struck home, incapacitating him.

Tom rushed forward, snatching the man's wand and pointing it towards him. "Who the hell are you?", he asked.

"Bi- Bill. My name is Bill." The man, Bill, sputtered out with a grimace. "I'm Bill Weasley."

"Weasley? What the bloody hell is a Weasley doing following me? Answer me!", Tom demanded.

"I- I was sent to Diagon Alley because of all the Death Eater activity recently.", Bill replied.

"I asked you why you were following me."

"The Death Eaters Travers and Selwyn are tailing you. Dumbledore told me to report any potential targets." With the mention of the wizard'd name, Bill clamped up, obviously having revealed something he thought he shouldn't.

Tom carefully thought about this new information. Dumbledore, of all people, had caught scent of him. He had no doubt that the old wizard would easily deem him a target to be taken out at the earliest convenience. It would not do to allow that.

Bill Weasley would have to be eliminated.

Tom opened up his pouch of spell tablets. He fingered the ones for the Killing Curse, contemplating. He didn't want to kill the Weasley, but there really wasn't much of a choice...

He put away the Killing Curse, and instead took out the Memory Charm, and the Imperius.

"You're lucky, Weasley. I won't be killing you today. However..." He smashed the tablets. "You won't be remembering this little confrontation... I hope you enjoy Egypt."

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter... I've tried not to be so darn confusing, but this is really just setting up some plot points we'll be exploiting on a later date!**


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